


Family First

by pega



Category: Arrested Development
Genre: Gen, Hogwarts AU, One Shot, Sorting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 09:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16156061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pega/pseuds/pega
Summary: Dedicated to the amazing ACS, who wrote a fantastic Hogwarts AU that sparked this one!





	Family First

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelica_church_schuyler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_church_schuyler/gifts).



> Dedicated to the amazing ACS, who wrote a fantastic Hogwarts AU that sparked this one!

Mr. and Mrs. Bluth, of the Bluth Housing Corporation and manor, were proud of their wealth, their beauty, their health, and occasionally their children, but usually not Gob.

 

Still, when the Hogwarts letter arrived, the household was able to collectively release a subtly held breath. The fear wasn’t that Gob was a squib. Even as a toddler, Gob attracted the kind of chaos only a magical child could manage, filling the nursery with conjured doves and rabbits. He would float to the ceiling if given too much sugar before bed, and he always managed to smell distinctly of lemongrass.

 

No, the fear was that Hogwarts, in all her omnipresent wisdom, would decide that Gob was too much of a liability for a letter. After all, the conjured rabbits multiplied like, well, rabbits. The floating was a constant source of frustration for the nanny, and the lemongrass scent made Lucille sneeze. Still, there were clear solutions for a Pureblood (ish. Pureblood ish. Lucille swore up and down that she came from a proper magical family that she no longer spoke to for unimportant reasons, and no one dared to correct her) family with their level of connections and wealth. Lucille and George Bluth made a few pointed donations to Hogwarts in the spring, and by summer, Gob’s letter arrived right on time.

 

“Hell yeah!” Gob whooped with delight. His siblings crowded around him, trying to catch a glimpse of the supplies list. “They even got my name right!”

 

Lindsay snorted. “Duh. What, you thought they’d write George?”

 

That was precisely what Gob thought they might write. “No, it’s just cool how they know!”

 

George Sr. peered at his son over his Wall Street Journal. The Bluths were boycotting the Daily Prophet because really, no stock market reports? They might be a Purebloods, but they were capitalists first. “Think you’ll be ready to continue the legacy?”

 

Gob nodded with more confidence than he felt.

 

“Good.” There was no question which legacy George Sr. was referring to. George and Lucille Bluth met as Slytherin prefects. Horace Slughorn was a regular dinner guest.

 

“Oh, please!” Lucille rolled her eyes, hips, and wrist, splattering the last dregs of her glass of firewhiskey across the fireplace. “He’ll be lucky if Hufflepuff takes him.” The early morning was not treating Lucille Bluth particularly well, and she had decided to compensate by getting 8pm drunk instead of 8am drunk.

 

Buster piped up naively, unaware that he was setting up Lucille for more vitriol. “Doesn’t Hufflepuff have to take everyone?”

 

Lucille nodded. “Precisely.”

 

“Well then!” Michael deftly grabbed Gob’s supply list. “We can go get most of this in Diagon Alley, right?” And with that, Michael arranged for their parents to give him their vault key, and for everyone to meet at the Wizard Club for dinner. Gob was a little miffed to be upstaged by his eight year old brother, but, well. He really did want to get to Diagon Alley.

 

They had the best racing brooms.

 

~~~

 

“No.” Michael waved off Gob without ever lifting his head from his book. “The list says no brooms for first years.”

 

“Michael! This isn’t a broom.”

 

That at least got Michael’s attention. “What on earth is that thing?”

 

Gob grinned. “A Spelledway.”

 

“No.”

 

~~~

 

The Bluths deigned to make a rare public appearance to supportively send Gob off on the Hogwarts Express. Any additional benefit to doing so, such as proving once and for all to the gossipers at Witch Weekly that yes, the Bluth children would be attending a proper British wizarding school was purely incidental and definitely subconscious.

 

“Make sure you take the photo angled from the left, that’s their good side!” Lucille hissed at the photographer.

 

Definitely subconscious.

 

“Now, son.” George Sr. shot Gob a steely look. “What’s the Bluth motto?”

 

Gob blinked. “Never drink all the milk and leave the bottle in the fridge?”

 

“Merlin,” cursed George Sr., “nevermind. Just, you know. Don’t get expelled.”

 

Michael snorted. “It’s Hogwarts, Dad, they haven’t expelled anyone in sixty years.”

 

“Don’t get expelled.” George Sr. repeated flatly at Gob. “And for magic’s sakes, act like a Bluth in there, alright?”

 

 _Act like a Bluth_ , Gob repeated to himself as he climbed aboard the train. _Act like a Bluth_. Gob had a spellway tucked into his trunks, a bag of Gallons for bribes, and a well practiced sneer for moments when significant bluffing would be required.

 

Gob’s ride to Hogwarts was lonely. His mother warned him that first years rarely could control a whole compartment, so Gob was prepared to share. But nobody came. He heard some commotion in the halls, and stuck his head out to see what was going on, but all he saw were some Gryffindor boys running down the aisle with an entourage following behind.

 

He nearly got out an joined the entourage, but then it was time to change into his robes.

 

The boat ride across the Black Lake was thrilling, and Gob privately vowed to return as soon as possible. He had the vague ambition of perfecting some illusory magic, and the Giant Squid would make an excellent audience.

 

In fact, he was so distracted by the lake that he nearly forgot to be nervous about the sorting.

 

Nearly.

 

Gob’s new class at Hogwarts was smaller than he thought it would be. No prominent heirs or heiresses to the Noble houses were present in the Entrance Hall, and Gob felt a vicious thrill at the thought of being the undeniable social top dog. He could already picture it now, sitting in the Slytherin common room, laughing it up with his new friends, welcoming Michael and Lindsay and Buster into the house, teaching them the ropes-

 

“George Oscar Bluth!”

 

The room didn’t quite go quiet, but there was a distinctive perked up quality to the gazes coming over from the Slytherin table as Gob proudly marched up the stool, put the ratty hat on his head, and waited for his inheritance to come through.

 

“Well,” chuckled a small voice unnervingly close to his ear. “This is an easy one.”

 

 _Slytherin!_ Gob’s heart soared.

 

“Nope.” The hat sounded a bit more sympathetic then. “Kid, you’d get eaten up alive in there. You’ll be a perfect fit in HUFFLEPUFF!”

 

The Hufflepuffs pulled him towards their table with smiles and really friendly hands, but all Gob could focus on was the soft laughter and whispers coming from the Slytherin table.

 

“Hi, I’m-”

 

“Leave me alone to die,” Gob groaned into the wood of the table. The older student next to him patted his shoulder.

 

“Bit rude, but that’s fine. I was going to say, I’m David Feinberg, if you need anything. Were you expecting a different house?”

 

Gob lifted his head to give David Feinberg a withering stare. Or at least, as much of a withering stare as he could manage, it really didn’t hold a candle to his mother’s. “I’m a Bluth. We’re supposed to be in Slytherin.”

 

David shrugged. “You’re not. Oh! Hey, there’s my brother!”

 

An Antonio Morealli-Feinberg was sorted into Slytherin, and Gob pounded his head against the table. “Come on!”

 

David shot him a sharp look. “Hey, don’t be mean, Tony was nervous about this!”

 

“You don’t mind that he’s not in Hufflepuff with you?” The question slipped out of Gob’s mouth before he could bite it back.

 

“Nope.” David shook his head. “Tony’s a Slytherin through and through, so I’m not surprised, but it’s up to the hat to make the call. Houses are like family, but they don't supersede ties to your biological family. Or at least that's how we feel here in Hufflepuff.”

 

Gob thought on that as the Sorting wrapped up. He ate in contemplative silence, which was a definite first. He was still thinking on it as the Prefects shepherded the first years to their new dorms, as they crawled through the barrels, and as the first years quickly claimed beds.

 

One of the other first years kept looking over at Gob as they all unpacked. “Hey,” he finally asked, head tilted funny. “You look sad. Want to talk about it?”

 

Gob paused. “Not really.”

 

The other student shrugged. “Okay! Can I offer you a hug, then?”

 

“...Yes.”

 

Maybe the Hat wasn’t completely out of its felt mind. Maybe Gob could be happy here, really happy here.

 

And maybe the next day, in the joint Hufflepuff-Slytherin Charms section, Gob could say hello to that Tony guy.


End file.
